Ukrainian TV chef reveals her mum's heartbreaking last act before being forced out of family home by Russian invaders
MUM and Dad had a good life. Their house was by a bank of the river Dnipro in the south of Ukraine.
Huge golden sunflower fields stretching as far as the eye can see, as hot as the Mediterranean, and just a 50-mile drive from
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Olia Hercules, pictured at home in London, reveals her Ukrainian family's plight in her memoir
Credit: Olivia West
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Olia's parents, Petro and Olga, drove for days to escape the Russian invasion
Credit: Olia Hercules
They planted an orchard and Dad dug out a pond that he filled with carp and sturgeon.
I would visit with my British husband Joe and our children at least twice a year, the last time being August 2021.
There are photos of my big extended family having a barbecue on
There is a video of my Joe laughing with my dad, brother and cousins, my father telling Ukrainian dad jokes using a mixture of broken English and expressive gestures. He is such a good actor.
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Just six months later he would use those acting skills again.
But this time it wasn't a family comedy but a scene straight out of an apocalyptic movie.
My mum and dad were escaping as
'If the Russians stop you,' I said, 'Pretend to be an idiot. Do not argue, do not show emotion.'
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The Russians drove their tanks into Kakhovka on the first day of the invasion on February 22, 2022.
My parents and other locals went to protest every day in the centre of town. But eventually the invaders started shooting into the crowd.
Torture chambers
Then my dad received a phone call. A man with a sharp Russian accent demanded that he give up the keys to his and mum's businesses (Mum ran a small B&B in town).
The Russian barked: 'We also know that your son joined the Ukrainian Territorial Army. Tell him to put down his arms, or else.'
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Dad — headstrong and courageous as he is — completely ignored my instructions and said something like: 'Over my dead body.'
The Russian made it clear that he should be careful what he wished for.
I freaked out when Mum told me this and urged them to leave.
We have all seen reports that the Russians set up special 'basements' all over the occupied regions.
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For basements, read torture chambers.
I wish I was exaggerating, but I am not. People started disappearing in
My own brother, Sasha, was defending Kyiv with other ex-civilians — people from all walks of life. In his regiment there was a baker, an IT guy, an actor and a builder.
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Sasha later told me how they were stuck on one side of the river Irpin near
They were lucky, my brother told me — the weather and
Only a few months ago, Sasha admitted to me that shrapnel had grazed against his thigh. Not everyone was so lucky. At home in London, I was freaking out.
Strong Roots
OLIA HERCULES is a London-based chef and writer who was born in Kakhovka in southern Ukraine.
She has published four cookbooks and this week releases a memoir, Strong Roots: A Ukrainian Family Story Of War, Exile and Hope.
A regular on TV's Saturday Kitchen, she co-founded #CookForUkraine – a global initiative to raise money for the war-torn country.
Parents under occupation, brother in Irpin, and then the news about what happened in Bucha, very close to where my brother was located.
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I lost my mind and shouted down the phone to my mum for them to leave until they finally relented.
They grabbed two suitcases — one with clothes, another with family photographs, letters and Mum's hand-stitched embroideries.
They dug any valuables they had into the ground, in case they would return in the future, and they drove.
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But not before my mum scrubbed the whole house until it shined. It was one of the most heartbreaking things for me to hear — and for my mum to tell — how she tidied up her house before they left, imagining how a Russian woman might move into it and remark on how tidy everything was.
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Petro at a yard in Ukraine with the tractor he is converting into a minesweeper
Credit: Olia Hercules
8
Olia's dad in the kitchen with her eldest son Sasha
Credit: Olia Hercules
Ukrainians take huge pride in keeping their homes cosy and beautiful. Just like here in the UK, our home is our castle.
Advertisement
My other family and friends followed them a day later. They had to break through 19 Russian checkpoints and witnessed craters as big as the moon's, left by artillery and missiles.
Mum and Dad drove for five days through
They went to stay with my cousins in Berlin. But within the first two months, Dad decided he couldn't do it. 'I will die from inaction and depression here, Olia. I am going back,' he told me.
Mum was so broken, she did not go with him. She said she could not imagine living in Ukraine while Kakhovka was occupied, while Russians lived in her home.
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Planning to reunite
To explain the severity of their separation, my mum and dad met at primary school.
They are both 67 and they had known each other for 60 years already, and been married for 50.
My dad is in Ukraine now, and Kakhovka is still occupied by the Russians.
It is a ghost town and is pummelled by Russians on a regular basis (they use old Soviet launchers that are not exactly precise, so when they try to shoot at a town on the front line, it can fall anywhere).
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When Russia invaded, mum and dad went into town every day to protest. Eventually the invaders started shooting the crowd
Olia Hercules
After careful reconnaissance and making sure that it was safe to do so, the Ukrainian army hit it and destroyed the tanks, along with my dad's warehouse.
I am sure Dad is heartbroken about his life's work being turned into rubble, but he told me he had no regrets. He is now with his sister and nephew in another unoccupied region of Ukraine.
Ukraine is now the most mined country in the world, so Dad is using his engineering skills to convert an old tractor into a driverless minesweeper. Mum is still in Berlin, but she is planning to reunite with Dad next year.
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She has accepted they may have lost their home forever, and started entertaining the idea to start anew in another part of Ukraine.
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Olia, back left, cuddling Sasha at a family dinner
Credit: Olia Hercules
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Ingredients for a delicious spread
Credit: Olia Hercules
This is because, unlike in the 1990s after independence, Ukrainians do not want to live elsewhere. Everyone just wants to be back home. My parents want to be within their community, speaking their own language.
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They crave the south Ukrainian sunshine, they want to dig around in their garden, they want us to visit them there, to clink glasses and eat delicious food, and to tell silly jokes.
For my youngest Wilfred, five, and my older son Sasha, 13, to run around and gorge themselves on massive peaches.
It's because of this love — love of a country that people like my dad and mum worked so hard to build — that I know we will not stop fighting.
As English author G.K. Chesterton said: 'The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.'
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But you don't need to be a soldier to fight. My weapon is my pen and my ability to translate our human experience to people in the UK through my cookbooks, which are full of snippets of my family history and now, hopefully, through the family memoir I have written.
Rebuild and flourish
It has been incredible to receive so much support, because people knew me and trusted me.
Within a week of the war starting, I had been able to raise enough money to supply ballistic vests and helmets, boots and even ballistic underwear, and to get it delivered just a day before my brother and 105 people in his regiment went into battle.
I will never forget this generosity of the British, the post-war spirit and the Keep Calm And Carry On philosophy which is so keenly adopted by everyone in
Advertisement
War news fatigue is real — I get it.
It is not easy to keep looking at the horrific news, at the distressing headlines. But with 'peace talks' looming, I hope people do not forget that what the media call 'territories' are not faceless dots on the map.
They are places that still hold our homes, our memories and our people.
Not everyone was able to leave like my parents did.
Advertisement
I have plenty of friends and family who had to stay behind, to look after the 'unmovable' — the elderly or ill parents or even neighbours.
People started disappearing. My brother was defending Kyiv. My father's life was threatened. Mass graves, all manner of horrors. I lost my mind and shouted down the phone for them to leave
Olia Hercules
If those areas are given to Russia, the war will not cease for them. Like other places that
One thing my parents and my grandparents taught me was to never give up, and to never give up hope.
I will be honest, it has been very up and down. But even on the lowest day I know that Ukrainians will never relent, and will never give up the fight, and the hope that we will return, rebuild and flourish.
Advertisement
As my late grandmother used to say: 'Always look at the roots. If the roots are strong, it doesn't matter if the wind blows off the pretty petals.
'If the roots are strong, it doesn't matter if a storm breaks the fragile stem.
'It will all grow back again.'
Strong Roots: A Ukrainian Family Story Of War, Exile And Hope, by Olia Hercules, is out on Thursday.
8
Strong Roots: A Ukrainian Family Story Of War, Exile And Hope, by Olia Hercules, is out on Thursday
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The Irish Sun
9 hours ago
- The Irish Sun
Ukrainian TV chef reveals her mum's heartbreaking last act before being forced out of family home by Russian invaders
MUM and Dad had a good life. Their house was by a bank of the river Dnipro in the south of Ukraine. Huge golden sunflower fields stretching as far as the eye can see, as hot as the Mediterranean, and just a 50-mile drive from Advertisement 8 Olia Hercules, pictured at home in London, reveals her Ukrainian family's plight in her memoir Credit: Olivia West 8 Olia's parents, Petro and Olga, drove for days to escape the Russian invasion Credit: Olia Hercules They planted an orchard and Dad dug out a pond that he filled with carp and sturgeon. I would visit with my British husband Joe and our children at least twice a year, the last time being August 2021. There are photos of my big extended family having a barbecue on There is a video of my Joe laughing with my dad, brother and cousins, my father telling Ukrainian dad jokes using a mixture of broken English and expressive gestures. He is such a good actor. Advertisement Just six months later he would use those acting skills again. But this time it wasn't a family comedy but a scene straight out of an apocalyptic movie. My mum and dad were escaping as 'If the Russians stop you,' I said, 'Pretend to be an idiot. Do not argue, do not show emotion.' Advertisement The Russians drove their tanks into Kakhovka on the first day of the invasion on February 22, 2022. My parents and other locals went to protest every day in the centre of town. But eventually the invaders started shooting into the crowd. Torture chambers Then my dad received a phone call. A man with a sharp Russian accent demanded that he give up the keys to his and mum's businesses (Mum ran a small B&B in town). The Russian barked: 'We also know that your son joined the Ukrainian Territorial Army. Tell him to put down his arms, or else.' Advertisement Dad — headstrong and courageous as he is — completely ignored my instructions and said something like: 'Over my dead body.' The Russian made it clear that he should be careful what he wished for. I freaked out when Mum told me this and urged them to leave. We have all seen reports that the Russians set up special 'basements' all over the occupied regions. Advertisement 8 For basements, read torture chambers. I wish I was exaggerating, but I am not. People started disappearing in My own brother, Sasha, was defending Kyiv with other ex-civilians — people from all walks of life. In his regiment there was a baker, an IT guy, an actor and a builder. Advertisement Sasha later told me how they were stuck on one side of the river Irpin near They were lucky, my brother told me — the weather and Only a few months ago, Sasha admitted to me that shrapnel had grazed against his thigh. Not everyone was so lucky. At home in London, I was freaking out. Strong Roots OLIA HERCULES is a London-based chef and writer who was born in Kakhovka in southern Ukraine. She has published four cookbooks and this week releases a memoir, Strong Roots: A Ukrainian Family Story Of War, Exile and Hope. A regular on TV's Saturday Kitchen, she co-founded #CookForUkraine – a global initiative to raise money for the war-torn country. Parents under occupation, brother in Irpin, and then the news about what happened in Bucha, very close to where my brother was located. Advertisement I lost my mind and shouted down the phone to my mum for them to leave until they finally relented. They grabbed two suitcases — one with clothes, another with family photographs, letters and Mum's hand-stitched embroideries. They dug any valuables they had into the ground, in case they would return in the future, and they drove. Advertisement But not before my mum scrubbed the whole house until it shined. It was one of the most heartbreaking things for me to hear — and for my mum to tell — how she tidied up her house before they left, imagining how a Russian woman might move into it and remark on how tidy everything was. 8 Petro at a yard in Ukraine with the tractor he is converting into a minesweeper Credit: Olia Hercules 8 Olia's dad in the kitchen with her eldest son Sasha Credit: Olia Hercules Ukrainians take huge pride in keeping their homes cosy and beautiful. Just like here in the UK, our home is our castle. Advertisement My other family and friends followed them a day later. They had to break through 19 Russian checkpoints and witnessed craters as big as the moon's, left by artillery and missiles. Mum and Dad drove for five days through They went to stay with my cousins in Berlin. But within the first two months, Dad decided he couldn't do it. 'I will die from inaction and depression here, Olia. I am going back,' he told me. Mum was so broken, she did not go with him. She said she could not imagine living in Ukraine while Kakhovka was occupied, while Russians lived in her home. Advertisement Planning to reunite To explain the severity of their separation, my mum and dad met at primary school. They are both 67 and they had known each other for 60 years already, and been married for 50. My dad is in Ukraine now, and Kakhovka is still occupied by the Russians. It is a ghost town and is pummelled by Russians on a regular basis (they use old Soviet launchers that are not exactly precise, so when they try to shoot at a town on the front line, it can fall anywhere). Advertisement When Russia invaded, mum and dad went into town every day to protest. Eventually the invaders started shooting the crowd Olia Hercules After careful reconnaissance and making sure that it was safe to do so, the Ukrainian army hit it and destroyed the tanks, along with my dad's warehouse. I am sure Dad is heartbroken about his life's work being turned into rubble, but he told me he had no regrets. He is now with his sister and nephew in another unoccupied region of Ukraine. Ukraine is now the most mined country in the world, so Dad is using his engineering skills to convert an old tractor into a driverless minesweeper. Mum is still in Berlin, but she is planning to reunite with Dad next year. Advertisement She has accepted they may have lost their home forever, and started entertaining the idea to start anew in another part of Ukraine. 8 Olia, back left, cuddling Sasha at a family dinner Credit: Olia Hercules 8 Ingredients for a delicious spread Credit: Olia Hercules This is because, unlike in the 1990s after independence, Ukrainians do not want to live elsewhere. Everyone just wants to be back home. My parents want to be within their community, speaking their own language. Advertisement They crave the south Ukrainian sunshine, they want to dig around in their garden, they want us to visit them there, to clink glasses and eat delicious food, and to tell silly jokes. For my youngest Wilfred, five, and my older son Sasha, 13, to run around and gorge themselves on massive peaches. It's because of this love — love of a country that people like my dad and mum worked so hard to build — that I know we will not stop fighting. As English author G.K. Chesterton said: 'The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.' Advertisement But you don't need to be a soldier to fight. My weapon is my pen and my ability to translate our human experience to people in the UK through my cookbooks, which are full of snippets of my family history and now, hopefully, through the family memoir I have written. Rebuild and flourish It has been incredible to receive so much support, because people knew me and trusted me. Within a week of the war starting, I had been able to raise enough money to supply ballistic vests and helmets, boots and even ballistic underwear, and to get it delivered just a day before my brother and 105 people in his regiment went into battle. I will never forget this generosity of the British, the post-war spirit and the Keep Calm And Carry On philosophy which is so keenly adopted by everyone in Advertisement War news fatigue is real — I get it. It is not easy to keep looking at the horrific news, at the distressing headlines. But with 'peace talks' looming, I hope people do not forget that what the media call 'territories' are not faceless dots on the map. They are places that still hold our homes, our memories and our people. Not everyone was able to leave like my parents did. Advertisement I have plenty of friends and family who had to stay behind, to look after the 'unmovable' — the elderly or ill parents or even neighbours. People started disappearing. My brother was defending Kyiv. My father's life was threatened. Mass graves, all manner of horrors. I lost my mind and shouted down the phone for them to leave Olia Hercules If those areas are given to Russia, the war will not cease for them. Like other places that One thing my parents and my grandparents taught me was to never give up, and to never give up hope. I will be honest, it has been very up and down. But even on the lowest day I know that Ukrainians will never relent, and will never give up the fight, and the hope that we will return, rebuild and flourish. Advertisement As my late grandmother used to say: 'Always look at the roots. If the roots are strong, it doesn't matter if the wind blows off the pretty petals. 'If the roots are strong, it doesn't matter if a storm breaks the fragile stem. 'It will all grow back again.' Strong Roots: A Ukrainian Family Story Of War, Exile And Hope, by Olia Hercules, is out on Thursday. 8 Strong Roots: A Ukrainian Family Story Of War, Exile And Hope, by Olia Hercules, is out on Thursday Advertisement
Irish Examiner
10 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Suzanne Harrington: 'Terrorist-adjacent', hilarious, galvanising, inspirational Kneecap
At a moment where that Chinese curse — may you live in interesting times — is taking itself far too literally, we could all do with a fat slap of levity. I'm pinning my hopes on Kneecap's Liam Óg Ó Hannaidh when he shows up at Westminster magistrates court this Wednesday on terror charges. I'm hoping he'll ask for a translator, like he did while playing a version of himself in the Kneecap film. That life will imitate art, and he will not speak a single word of English during this nonsensical waste of Liam's time and taxpayers' cash. Because really... terror charges? A surreal idea, like something dreamed up by Flann O'Brien and Franz Kafka after sharing a pot of peyote tea. These charges do not include any actual terrorism — no bombing of schools and hospitals, vaporising ambulances, starving and murdering tens of thousands of civilians — but centre on the alleged handling of a banned flag indoors last November. Touching a rectangle of fabric. Briefly. Kneecap, who have asked supporters to gather outside the London court building on the day, describe this moment of British power-flexing theatrics as 'political policing', a 'carnival of distraction'. Goliath, as ever, punching down; Daithí readying his sling. Because if the British government wants a carnival, it could not have cast better players. Kneecap know all about performance, situationism, absurdism. They themselves are fearless theatre. Imagine then this life-imitating-art scenario, where Liam Óg speaks only Irish in court. Imagine how funny that would be, how utterly, brilliantly comedic, how richly satisfying. The spluttering, the outrage, the apoplexy. The hilarity. The glee. And yes, it's a lot to ask a 27-year-old facing the wrath of the British establishment doing their best to intimidate, to derail his career, but tá bualain ar an bhuach. (And yes, of course I had to google that. I can't speak Irish; unlike Peig Sayers, Kneecap are the first people who have ever inspired me to look up any Irish words. Don't hate me if it reads like a badly translated menu). Celtic fans unveil a banner that reads "Free Palestine" and "Kneecap Abu" during the Scottish Gas Men's Scottish Cup final at Hampden Park, Glasgow. Picture date: Saturday May 24, 2025. PA Photo. That's why the establishment wants to squash Kneecap, cancel them, restrict their movement — because they inspire. They galvanise. Like those enormous peaceful marches for Palestine that regularly bring central London to a halt but are never reported by the BBC or other major British media (turnout for the last one on May 17 was 500,000-600,000) — Kneecap, along with a handful of other vocal critics, are doing what the British government is not: loudly calling out atrocities. They're being labelled as terrorist-adjacent for their trouble, as they provide a focus for people appalled at the genocide, appalled at the complicity of the US and Britain. Along with the marches, along with other musicians such as Fontaines and Macklemore, they are providing an unofficial form of anger management. It must be infuriating therefore for those keen to shut them up to see how the more Kneecap hold their nerve, hold their principles ('If it comes down to awards or breaking America by sacrificing what you believe in, then America can go fuck itself') the bigger they get. Cancelled from a Scottish festival that caved to 'safety concerns', they sold out an alternative venue in seconds. Glastonbury refused to cancel them. And in September, they play their biggest venue to date — Wembley Arena. The cancelling is not going well. I'm off to google the Irish for 'fight the power'. Read More Film Reviews: How to Train Your Dragon makes superb use of Northern Irish scenery
Irish Examiner
11 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
'I just want him to be alive': Ukrainian mothers on Sherkin Island plead for end to Ukraine war
For Svitlana Babak February 15 was a day like any other… until a phone call alerted her to the tragic news: 'Your son has been killed by Russian forces.' Months on, she speaks through broken sobs as a translator tells her story. Living in the former Sherkin Island hotel - 2,000 miles away from her native Kharkiv - Svitlana is now the most homesick she has ever been. Her dream of returning to a safe Ukraine and having her whole family reunited has been crushed now that Oleksandr, the son who stayed behind to fight, will not be there to greet her. The closest thing to a reunion was at the military cemetery where Svitlana and other family members buried him some months ago. The sound of grief that day was punctuated by piercing air raid sirens - a painful reminder that nowhere in Ukraine is safe from Russian attack. Svitlana learned about her 44-year-old son's death while in her bedroom on Sherkin. News of the tragedy cast a dark shadow over an already overcast island. A recent 'We stand with Ukraine' event took place at the Sherkin House Ukrainian Centre and was organised by the facility's manager Alan McCormack and CEO of the Greater Chernobyl Cause charity Fiona Corcoran. Ambassador to Ireland, Larysa Gerasko was also in attendance, and spoke about her hopes for an end to the unrest. The ceremony concluded with a tree planting ceremony commemorating the loved ones of Sherkin residents who have died in Ukraine. Svitlana was among the 57 Ukrainian residents of Sherkin Island remembering friends and loved ones lost to the brutal war. Svitlana's daughter Alina and granddaughter Deana both live with her on the island. 'My son used to call me but he only had limited time to talk because he could never be sure who was listening,' she told the Irish Examiner. 'He usually just had time to say 'I'm alive' and that was it. "When he died it was the hardest time, especially when it came time to bury my son. Our manager is very supportive and there was a collection to help with the funeral. People gave their condolences and I can feel their support. They helped with permission so I could leave the country to attend the funeral. I want people to remember my son as happy. Oleksandr was known for his bravery. He saved the life of another soldier. There were crowds and crowds of people at his funeral. Every son loves their mother and every mother loves their son. We were no different. Svitlana shifts our gaze to the smiling picture of her son which is on a table close to the entrance of Sherkin House Ukrainian Centre. 'This was his last picture,' she tells the Irish Examiner. 'You can tell he was very outgoing. He had a lot of friends. It's impossible to live without fun.' She says while he fought bravely for his country, and his comrades, his legacy is little comfort. 'I just want him to be alive.' Meanwhile, Natalia Fomina from Kyiv, who is also a resident at the facility, said she longs for the day she can be reunited with her husband. Yuri is currently living in a centre in Limerick after leaving his role as an officer in the military in Ukraine due to health issues. Natalia is now appealing to officials so the couple can reside in the same accommodation centre. 'We lived together for 30 years. He has a problem with his health and I would feel much better to have him with me. He needs treatment. It's quite difficult. I want to be able to look after him. Our daughter Yullia chose to stay in Ukraine so it's just us in Ireland.' Natalia Fomina from Kyiv at the 'We Stand With Ukraine' event in Sherkin House Ukrainian Centre to commemorate those who passed away in the war. Picture: Sorcha Sweeney Ukrainian Ambassador to Ireland, Larysa Gerasko, said Ukraine is still in dire need of support. 'We are still fighting and we still need support to end this war and end these killings of civilians,' she said. 'It's really very important to be vocal and to encourage your politicians to do more for Ukraine.' Fiona Corcoran, who was joined at the event by Cork county mayor Cllr Joe Carroll, praised the residents of Sherkin Island for taking their Ukrainian neighbours to their hearts. 'Each day the needs grow greater,' she said of the Ukrainian people. 'Until we can see an end to the fighting, thousands of vulnerable families will continue to live in appalling conditions and fear what tomorrow may bring. Today we stand in solidarity with our Ukrainian brothers and sisters who had homes, security and normal lives until just over three years ago.' To support We Stand With Ukraine and the Greater Chernobyl Cause click here.
